He rested his jaw against the side of her head and swayed her in his arms.

A group of people moved, and Jefferson Steele could no longer see his son dancing with his new wife at their wedding reception from where he stood at the fence.

It was time to go anyway.

He didn’t even know why he came, except for the fact that for the first time in years, he ran into fucking Linus Washington and the man wouldn’t shut up about Carson and his girl Carissa, telling him all about them getting married.

He turned to head to his truck that he had to park a fucking million miles away because Broadway was lined with cars, trucks, and bikes.

But he stopped dead when he saw a salt-and-pepper-haired, goateed man standing there with his arms crossed on his chest.

“You got that.” His voice was low, gravelly, and hostile. “Now do not ever come back.”

Jefferson Steele took one beat to consider the idea if he could take this asshole down.

It only took a beat.

Then he nodded, shifted around him, giving him a wide berth, and walked to his truck.

Tack Allen walked to the fence and looked into the forecourt of Ride.

All he could see over the crowd was the side of Joker’s head, his face obscured by Carissa’s honey curls.

He scanned and caught sight of his woman.

Tyra had his grandbaby tucked in her arm, but she was smiling down at Travis, who was standing on his pudgy little kid legs and pounding on her thigh.

Elvira got close and swooped him up.

Travis giggled so loud, Tack could hear it.

He felt his lips curl up and he shifted his eyes back in the direction of the dance floor just as Louis sang oh yeah.

Tack walked toward the party, agreeing.